


Size Queen Under the Mountain

by billiethepoet



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Bottom Thorin, M/M, Penis Size, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2018-04-12 19:53:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4492557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/billiethepoet/pseuds/billiethepoet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin has been falling for Bilbo anyway, so finding out Bilbo has a huge cock is really just the icing on the cake. The really, really delicious icing on the cake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Size Queen Under the Mountain

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to destinationtoast for stepping out of her comfort zone and playing with some hobbit dicks for me.

Even Thorin couldn’t lose his way to the river beyond Beorn’s hall. All he had to do was follow the sound of splashing, or Kili’s laughter, or Dori’s shouts of dismay. Any of those would have gotten him in the vicinity of the calm river shallows Beorn pointed the others to. But once he’s closer, he can pick Bilbo’s dismayed voice out of the uproar. It’s quieter than the raucous dwarves but Thorin hears it louder and more clearly than any other voice in his company. Months on the road have attuned him to Bilbo Baggins. 

Thorin knows the slight sideways tilt of Bilbo’s smile, he knows the bounce of bedraggled curls when Bilbo shakes his head in exasperation, he knows the frustrated spread of Bilbo’s fingers against his own hips. And he knows what Bilbo sounds like in genuine distress. 

He can’t make out the words, but Bilbo’s voice rises above of the noise in anger and frustration. That speeds Thorin’s steps. 

There’s nothing out of the ordinary to see when Thorin comes to a stop next to Dwalin, the river gently lapping at their boots. The rest of the company are thigh deep in the calm water and naked as the day they were born. 

“You’re not going in?” Thorin murmurs to Dwalin but doesn’t look at him. His eyes are scanning, counting faces, looking for Bilbo. 

“Not with your nephews.” Dwalin juts his chin just a bit upstream, away from the clump of dwarves lathering and rinsing themselves. “They’ve got your burglar trapped.”

The growl forms in Thorin’s throat before he’s even locked his gaze on Fili and Kili. Kili is obviously teasing Bilbo, poking at him and prodding with words, while Fili laughs and does nothing to dissuade his brother. And Bilbo. Bilbo struggles his way, ungracefully and red faced, back toward the group. 

That’s when Thorin realizes what is out of the ordinary. The huge, much larger than it should be for such a small and delicate creature or even a full sized man, cock swinging and splashing between Bilbo’s legs. Thorin’s eyes lock on it and his mouth goes dry. 

Dwalin chuckles. “Thought you might want a look at that.” 

Curse Dwalin for remembering Thorin’s angry young adulthood and how much time he spent in the villages of men, looking for something to fill the need within him. Other dwarves were hard to find and men were better endowed with what Thorin craved. 

“I’m not interested in his cock.” It feels like a lie on Thorin’s tongue but he bites it out anyway. 

“Aye, not _only_ in his cock, you mean. It’s hardly a secret.” Dwalin’s voice is too close to pity. It twists something in Thorin’s gut. He’s close to turning on his heel and storming away but Bilbo has stopped in front of him, several feet away, so that the water laps against his thighs. 

And against his gorgeous prick. It’s thick and plump as it curves over his balls. The head settles below the waterline and Thorin imagines what it would look like growing thick and hard enough to peek past Bilbo’s foreskin and rise above the water. 

“Your nephews are beasts! Absolute, impolite, uncouth beasts!” Bilbo is flushed and his fists ball at his sides. 

Kili and Fili are still laughing in sidesplitting gales. But where they are unable to chime in, Bofur speaks for them. 

“Bilbo! They don’t mean any harm! They just want to know how the hobbit lasses can walk straight the next day!” 

The entire company is laughing, except for Thorin. Even Dwalin can’t keep himself from chuckling. 

Nori recovers first. “Mister Baggins, how do you keep from tripping over it?”

Bofur nudges a bent-over-in-laughter Bombur with his elbow. “I guess what they say about big feet is true after all!”

Bilbo’s face has gone from pleasantly flushed, something Thorin could pretend was caused by something other than embarrassment, to covered with angry red blotches of rage. Everyone else’s attention has pulled away from Bilbo, distracted by their own bawdy humor, but Thorin’s eyes never leave him. He’s dropped his hands to cover himself, as best he can anyway. He can cover most of his cock, with just the roundness of his balls peeking around the curve of his hands, and the head of his cock still obscured by the water. He wouldn’t be able to cover himself fully if the river wasn’t helping. He’d need both his hands, one over the other, to fist his cock properly. Thorin shifts in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure of his own swelling cock against his trousers. It doesn’t do any good. 

“Enough!” Thorin doesn’t raise his voice, doesn’t yell to be heard over the ruckus, but all the dwarves fall silent just the same. “Bathe. And leave Mister Baggins alone.”

The rest stay quiet but Bilbo is looking up at him, still cock deep in the gently flowing river, with eyes full of admiration and gratitude. If he doesn’t leave immediately, Thorin is going to fall to his knees among the river rocks and beg to suck Bilbo’s cock. 

It’s too much and Thorin spins on his heel and strides away. Each foot of distance he puts between the two of them feels wrong. He can hear Bilbo calling after him and each shout pulses directly to his erection. He makes it to a copse of trees between the river and Beorn’s hall, the voices from the river having faded to nothing but a murmur, before he stops. Most of the company dropped their packs and more than a little clothing here on the soft ground before sprinting to the river. Thorin rests his back against a broad oak, taking deep pulls of air through his nose. The pressure in his trousers isn’t decreasing, and when he closes his eyes all he can see is the plump softness of Bilbo’s massive cock swaying side to side with every step through the river. 

Mahal, it’s going to be a long trip to Erebor. 

“Thorin! Wait! Thorin, please.” 

Thorin’s head hits the tree with a thump. He shouldn’t have stopped. He barely has the strength to walk away from Bilbo on a normal day, much less twice on a day like this.

“Will you just slow down…” With his eyes closed, Bilbo’s harsh breathing sounds even more labored. Thorin can almost feel it rush past his ear, can almost feel Bilbo’s cheek pressed to his neck with the little hobbit stretched out on top--

Thorin forces his eyes open to kill that mental image before it can become a full blown fantasy. The actual image that greets him is no better. 

Bilbo stands before him, trousers hastily pulled on and gaping open at the top button. His shirt is pulled over his shoulders and shoved into the top of his trousers, but not fastened. A strip of bare, hairless chest is visible between the two strips of linen. The flush Thorin watched on Bilbo’s cheeks at the river has spread down his neck and across the piece of collar bone Thorin can see now. Bilbo’s braces are pulled up over that open shirt but sit loosely against his shoulders and can’t be helping actually keep his trousers in place. Bilbo’s small fists are clenched around his waistband doing the work his braces ought to be. 

But it’s the plane of his chest leading down to the open V of his trousers that Thorin keeps staring at. Bilbo is speaking and Thorin has to work to pull his eyes back to Bilbo’s mouth. And that doesn’t help the tightness in his trousers either. 

“I’m not angry at Fili and Kili, or any of the others. It’s nothing I haven’t heard before. Even among hobbits, I, well. That is to say--” Bilbo straightens himself up, fists still holding onto his trousers. “I appreciate your defense but it was unnecessary. But still, ah, appreciated.” 

Bilbo stands in expectant silence. Thorin, who is usually so comfortable with silence, never fails to falter in the face of Bilbo’s expectations. 

“It was no trouble. The rest of the company needs to learn better manners.” It’s the best Thorin can come up with with Bilbo standing so close. 

“Yes, I agree that they do. In more ways than just that. But....” Bilbo pauses, bites his lip and Thorin nearly groans. “You would come to the defense of any of your friends, wouldn’t you?”

Thorin nods, eager to agree but wanting to yell out that he and Bilbo are not friends. Have never been friends. From that first moment staring down at Bilbo in his fussy hobbit hole, through their late night conversations sitting watch, to the moment Thorin laid eyes on the magnificent cock hidden away beneath Bilbo’s clothes, he’s wanted far more than friendship. 

He wanted to wait until Erebor, until he was able to reclaim his throne and then claim Bilbo as his own. Properly court and win him as any dwarf, king or not, should be able to do. But the sun catches the damp curls of Bilbo’s hair where they rest on the back of his neck and Erebor is far away and all Thorin wants is to lick that skin to find out if it’s sweat or spray from the river that makes it glisten. 

“Good.” Bilbo nods decisively, and those curls bounce and jiggle. “I’m glad we are friends.” Thorin can hear both hope and a tinge of disappointment in Bilbo’s voice. He knows the moods and tones of his hobbit so well by now. 

“No,” Thorin growls out. “We are not friends.” 

Bilbo’s face falls immediately. He moves to shrink back, mouth open and on the verge of denial. That disappointment last only a moment before anger, incredulity takes its place. 

“Oh, yes we are. After all the time we’ve spent together on this journey, we are _at least_ friends. We have fought together and stayed up late into the night talking of our homes and-”

Thorin cuts him off by grabbing his upper arms. This is the unexpected, inexplicable fire he loves in Bilbo. The hobbit doesn’t back down, he doesn’t capitulate, and he doesn’t surrender. That sort of steel in such a small, soft body is an intoxicating contradiction. Thorin has been fascinated by it from the day they left The Shire. The more he comes to know Bilbo, the more he wants him. 

That massive cock is just the icing on the cake. But what delicious icing it looks to be. 

The momentary distraction of being grabbed is fading. Instead of letting Bilbo work himself up any further, Thorin spins him around and eases him back against the oak bark. He steps in, planting a boot between Bilbo’s bare feet. 

Bilbo looks up at him, lips pink and eyes large and startled. Thorin wants to bend his head to take those lips, press his body forward to feel Bilbo against him, but he waits. He’s never been good with words. He uses them sparingly to express only what he must, but this is important. It matters enough to get it right. 

“Bilbo.” Thorin pauses, watches Bilbo’s throat work up and down as he swallows. “I feel something much stronger than friendship for you. I wanted to wait, but--”

Thorin’s words halt as Bilbo surges forward, pressing himself full length against Thorin’s body. He’s incredibly hot. All Thorin feels at first is that heat, but it gives way to the pressures of hardness: the flat plane of Bilbo’s chest, part bare and part still covered, the firmness of his thighs dragging against Thorin’s breeches, and the weight of his cock resting against Thorin’s hip. 

“But, today you saw something you wanted more than you wanted to wait.” 

“Yes.” The breathy sigh is out before Thorin can stop it. He presses his lips to the crown of Bilbo’s head, tucking the hobbit to his chest more firmly before he speaks again. “That’s not the only thing I want.” The heavy flow of feelings sticks in his throat like raw honey. He pushes past, forcing it out against Bilbo’s curls. “I care for you deeply.” 

Bilbo is quiet, but he shakes. Small reverberations bounce against Thorin’s chest and it takes a moment for Thorin to realize that he’s laughing. 

“I know that, you impossibly thick dwarf. You care deeply for everyone, everything. It’s impossible for you to care any less than deeply if you care at all.” 

Thorin goes to interrupt, to both deny Bilbo’s view of him and to stress that he cares for Bilbo more deeply and differently than any of the others. Before he can grumble out his response, Bilbo slides up and silences him with a quick press of warm lips. 

“And I know that’s not what you mean.” Bilbo’s lips, his smile, are gone too quickly but his head is tucked under Thorin’s chin again, inviting Thorin to kiss the crown of his head. “I was giving you until we took the mountain again, in case, well. In case you didn’t want to start something that would be cut short.”

Thorin shakes his head. His hair falls down around Bilbo’s face and the hobbit sighs against him. “No. Dwarves live with separation and the threat of loss every day. It does not frighten us anymore.” He took a deep breath, focusing on the words to explain to Bilbo, to someone who has only a fraction of his own lifespan, that dwarves rarely had enough time with each other. He can’t find adequate words, but Bilbo has heard enough about the line of Durin, and about Erebor and the dwarves scattered in the Blue Mountains, that Thorin hopes Bilbo will understand. He settles for: “I wanted to court you properly.”

Bilbo laughs again, this time pressing his lips to Thorin’s bare throat. “Your company stormed my pantry and you insulted me when we first met. And today you saw my cock and ran away like a blushing tween. I think we’re beyond propriety, even for dwarves.” Bilbo rolls his hips against Thorin’s thigh. His erection is still there, not as hard or as insistent as it had been when he first pressed himself against Thorin but still a force to be reckoned with. Thorin’s own prick still swells with interest. 

He bends to whisper against the point of Bilbo’s ear. “It was not your cock I ran away from. I did not want to pull you to the ground in front of the rest of the company.”

“Good. I am not one for an audience.”

“Nor am I.”

“But a secluded patch of woods might do nicely, in a pinch.”

“Some accommodation must be made while traveling.” 

Bilbo rocks against Thorin’s leg again, straining up to rub his cock against the crease of Thorin’s hip. “I’m glad we are in agreement on that issue. But, ah, there is another matter we should discuss before…” Bilbo angles back, trusting his weight to Thorin’s arms linked across his back. His gaze is serious as he meets Thorin’s eyes. “You would not be the first to think twice after seeing me unclothed. We don’t have to do anything--”

Thorin’s mouth crashes down on Bilbo’s fast and hard. His tongue sweeps in and he pulls Bilbo tight against his chest. Thorin doesn’t stop kissing him until Bilbo is breathless and his fingers are tangled in Thorin’s hair. 

“I am not intimidated, and I would very much like you to fuck me.” It’s supposed to come out as a deep growl, but Thorin only makes it just past ‘desperate and thoroughly snogged’. Bilbo moans ‘yes, yes, yes’ against Thorin’s chest, so he must not have noticed that the request did not sound as commanding as Thorin had hoped. 

Thorin pushes Bilbo away, backs him up against the tree bark again, and drops to his knees. He tries to pull Bilbo’s trousers to the ground but gets caught up on the braces Bilbo’s still shrugging from his shoulders. 

“I thought you wanted me to fuck you?”

“In a minute.” Thorin sounds irritated even to his own ears. He is irritated because he should already have Bilbo’s cock in his mouth but he’s stuck fussing with fabric. Finally the trousers fall and Bilbo shucks his shirt to the ground. Thank Mahal he hadn’t had time to pull on his small clothes before chasing after Thorin. 

And there it is. His cock standing proudly out from a patch of brown curls, still damp from his bath. Bilbo’s cock is hard but not straining. It curves upward, plump and thick but with obvious room to grow. Thorin’s mouth waters to feel that happen against his tongue. 

Thorin slides the palm of his hand up the length, the great length, of Bilbo’s shaft all the way to where the flushed head peeks from his foreskin. Thorin wraps his palm and slides it back down, moving the foreskin down to expose the head of Bilbo’s cock properly. He keeps sliding, all the way down to cup Bilbo's heavy balls in his palm. Mahal, even they spill out over his hand. 

He looks Bilbo squarely in the eyes as he bends his head and closes his lips around the tip of Bilbo’s cock. Thorin slides his mouth slowly, so slowly, to enjoy every fraction of an inch Bilbo can give him. His tongue caresses the prominent vein on the underside of Bilbo’s cock as he goes. 

He may be a king without a kingdom, and years out of practice, but he knows at least here he can impress. Some skills don’t fade with time. 

Thorin keeps the slow constant slide and pressure going as he feels Bilbo’s cock enter his throat and go even deeper. He keeps his breathing steady and slow, all through his nose, until he’s swallowed all of Bilbo down and those coarse curls brush against his cheeks. The smell of Bilbo here is intoxicating. 

He refocuses his gaze, eyes rolled as far up as they can go in order to see properly, on Bilbo’s face. The little hobbit is red faced and panting, with hands clenched in tight fists and stomach muscles taut. He’s also breathing through his nose but far less calmly than Thorin is. 

Thorin lets him sit there, as far into Thorin’s throat as he can go, for a moment. Then, he pulls back, sliding Bilbo’s cock out just two or three inches, and stops again. He looks up at Bilbo, waiting. 

Bilbo’s cock is finally fully hard. There’s no extra give to the skin under Thorin’s tongue. It’s forged iron wrapped in slick velvet. That tantalizing plumpness Thorin had savored as he worked his way to Bilbo’s root has given way to this unyielding strength. And it’s Thorin’s to command. 

He’s still waiting, lips wrapped around Bilbo’s cock and the tip of his tongue tracing lightly along a small patch of Bilbo’s skin, when Bilbo finally figures it out. 

“Of course that’s what you want,” Bilbo says as he wraps a hand in the long hair at the back of Thorin’s head. “You lazy, sodding dwarf.” 

The hand holds his head still while Bilbo’s hips rock, in and out and so slowly. Each inch slides over Thorin’s tongue as he sucks, keeping the pressure as uniform as he can until the head of Bilbo’s cock pops free from his lips. He keeps his mouth open so Bilbo can slide back in, just as slowly until he’s settled to the root again. Bilbo’s pace picks up a bit, but it’s still sensuous and deep.

Thorin lets his eyes fall closed and relaxes into Bilbo’s steady hand and the pistoning of Bilbo’s hips. There is more than one way to get fucked after all. 

Bilbo takes his time but doesn’t linger. The corners of Thorin’s mouth feel stretched and sore and his throat is raw when Bilbo pulls out. The pop of Bilbo’s cock falling from his lips leaves a trail of messy wetness across Thorin’s chin and beard. The ache and the mess feel wonderful. 

“Do you want me to keep going or…?” Bilbo sounds wrecked, barely in control. His fist has loosened from Thorin’s hair, but his fingers cup and card against Thorin’s skull. Restrained strength is soothing and Bilbo has that hidden behind his fussy waistcoats and tweed jackets. He has it in spades. 

Thorin rises from his knees and Bilbo grabs him for a deep kiss, seemingly trying to cover every piece of Thorin’s mouth that his cock has just laid claim to. It’s Thorin that eventually pulls back, but Bilbo speaks first. 

“I would love to, ah, follow through on your earlier suggestion but I haven’t anything to ease the way, as it were.” Bilbo’s embarrassment hides behind the flush of desire but Thorin can still hear it in his words. He finds it more endearing than he would like to admit. 

“Bombur’s pack will have cooking oil.” It’s not ideal but Thorin will live with it. It’s better than nothing at all. 

“Right, then, find a comfy spot and get on your back.” Bilbo’s gained back that stuffy air of command he sometimes can muster, and Thorin is all too happy to oblige. 

Bilbo steps out of his trousers and hurries to Bombur’s pack. Thorin strips his own clothes quickly and settles down to the moss-covered ground. He leans up on his elbows, one hand giving his cock a lazy stroke, as he watches Bilbo bend over to search for the oil. Bilbo’s arse is pale and round and hairless ( _how does he manage to be so hairless and why does Thorin find it so appealing?_ ). The next tug on his cock is a bit more determined as he watches that backside flex and stretch. 

Bilbo turns back to him, bottle in hand. “Excuse me. I’ll have to ask you to leave that alone until the proper time.” 

Thorin chuckles, and he can see Bilbo shiver at the sound. “I’ve been doing this since before you were born, Mister Baggins.”

“It’s not my fault you were too impatient to wait for me to catch you up.” Bilbo pads back and drops to his knees between Thorin’s spread thighs. Thorin gives his cock another long, languorous stroke just to antagonize. Bilbo’s response is to hide a smile behind a put-upon sigh. “Alright, if you must. But wait for me, at the end.”

Bilbo’s fingers are slick and hot when they lightly skim over Thorin’s hole. He’s patient and slow as he works those fingers in and out, opening Thorin gently. It’s frustrating and infuriating, and Thorin is writhing on the ground. One hand still encircles his cock at the base but he’s no longer stroking, and is instead caught up entirely in the feeling of Bilbo preparing him. 

It reaches a tipping point rather quickly for Thorin. “Do it now. I’m ready for it.”

Those fingers continue to work. “You are not. Relax and enjoy this.” Bilbo’s thumb begins to rub tender circles on the sensitive spot just behind Thorin’s balls. 

His eyes roll back in his head but he manages to sound gruff regardless. “There is something I would enjoy much more.”

“As soon as you’re ready.”

“I am Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain and King under the Mountain. I know when I am ready to be--”

“Right now you’re Thorin Oakenshield, King under Bilbo Baggins, so you’ll kindly behave!” Bilbo’s voice is raised, and with a little heat, but his fingers stay slow and calm. Thorin relaxes under him again, with only a slight grumble and a fresh new frisson of lust settling in his gut. 

Bilbo takes his time, and Thorin is panting and sweaty when Bilbo finally rises up between his legs. Thorin would complain again, would try to hurry Bilbo along, but the hobbit is already pulling Thorin’s legs up and over. His knees hook just over Bilbo’s shoulders and his arse rises just a hint off the ground. 

That slow push of Bilbo’s enormous cock, blunt head spreading him before the slick shaft keeps him open, makes the air seep from Thorin’s lungs in a low groan. Being filled so completely satisfies Thorin in a way other sexual encounters cannot. It grounds him and lets him give over completely to his lover. It’s isolation away from his duties, from his obligations, and from his fate. 

But being trapped under Bilbo’s careful attention is nearly as all encompassing as the thick cock stuffed inside him. Bilbo is slow and deliberate and Thorin can feel every fraction of an inch of Bilbo’s hardness as he takes him. Bilbo’s concentration is intense and focuses entirely on Thorin. He’s watching the space between them, either to be sure he doesn’t hurt Thorin as he enters him or just to see himself taken into Thorin’s body. Thorin’s not sure but Bilbo’s bent head and careful hands are so touchingly erotic that it doesn’t matter. 

When Thorin was traveling in the villages of men, and crawling into the laps of those men to ride whatever they could give him, many mistook Thorin’s need to be taken, to be filled, as a desire for roughness or haste. Though both can be good in their place, that was never what Thorin was after. He was after the escapism that a large cock could provide. Its ability to wipe his mind clean of worry is unparalleled. 

What Bilbo is doing, size and care and steady strength combined, is far better than he could have hoped for. It’s no wonder Thorin had given his heart to the hobbit well before he saw what was in Bilbo’s trousers. 

And then Bilbo’s _there_ , slid to the hilt and completely inside Thorin. He feels stretched and full and blessedly content for the first time in ages. Sweat rolls from Bilbo’s brow and Thorin catches it on his thumb. 

“All right?” Bilbo shifts slightly but doesn’t pull back. The movement ricochets through Thorin and makes his cock throb. 

“Move,” Thorin growls out instead of letting the words of love and devotion that are lodged in his chest come forward. Time for that after, if Bilbo wants, if Bilbo stays. 

Bilbo’s scowl is obviously put on, and Thorin loves him a little bit more for that. “Bossy.” He pulls back, just as slowly as he entered, and it feels like divine torture. They are pressed chest to chest and his thrust forward again is still slow, but stronger. Bilbo sets up a gentle rocking rhythm, until Thorin is canting his hips forward and Bilbo is breathing harshly in his ear. Bilbo drives deep every time, letting Thorin feel all of him, before sliding out again. It’s like being rocked on gentle ocean waves, but with the threat of a stronger tide brewing. 

Thorin lets himself be washed away by Bilbo’s long and slow strokes, by the feel of Bilbo’s balls brushing against the curve of his arse as he slides home. Bilbo’s breath grows harsher against his neck and he feels the scrape of teeth against his collarbone. Bilbo sits back, pulling Thorin by the thighs to meet his thrusts. The slippery sweat between them causes Thorin’s leg to fall from Bilbo’s shoulder. Instead of anchoring it there again, Thorin plants his foot next to Bilbo and uses the leverage to thrust up, harder and faster, into Bilbo’s more intense fucking. 

Bilbo fists a hand in Thorin’s hair. His next thrust is enough to jar Thorin against the ground. Thorin can’t wrap his hand around his own cock fast enough. 

He rocks up, meets Bilbo with equal intensity, tugs his cock quickly, and feel absolutely impaled. It’s glorious and Thorin feels his release tighten against the base of his spine, ready to spring forward. 

Bilbo, who has been shockingly quiet throughout, finally begins to babble as if he can talk himself into an orgasm as easily as he talks himself out of trouble. 

“Sweet Eru, yes. Stroke yourself. I want to feel you come while I’m inside you.” Bilbo drives home with three, four quick and hard thrusts that match the speed of Thorin’s hand on his own cock. “You’d need both hands to stroke me like that. Would you like that? Like to see how small your hands look wrapped around my cock?” 

Thorin’s head tosses against the ground as he loses himself in Bilbo’s continued babbling. 

“You’re so tight around me, Thorin. You feel so good and hot when I’m deep inside you. And you can take all of me--”

That does it. Thorin is bucking and bellowing and coming all over his own chest. 

Bilbo fucks him through all of it, that gigantic cock keeping him spread wide and filling him as he drains himself dry. Thorin is limp and dazed when Bilbo drives himself home again and, holding himself deep inside Thorin’s arse, comes with a great high pitched whine. Thorin can feel Bilbo’s great girth go even harder and the hot, wet pulses of come shoot inside him. It feels wonderful. 

Bilbo rests against Thorin’s chest, getting come all over himself and smearing it into Thorin’s chest hair but they are too exhausted and happy to care, until his softening cock begins to slip free from Thorin’s body. 

“All right. Steady on.” Bilbo slowly guides himself free. Despite his care and attention, Thorin will feel this encounter for days. Good. He wants to feel it in his arse and deep in his bones and against his heart for as long as he can. He’s leaking Bilbo’s come out onto the ground and over his own thighs, but he can’t bring himself to care. He’s far too tired. 

Bilbo lies next to him, curls against his side. “Do you think the others heard?”

“Hmmm,” Thorin hums. “Don’t care.” His eyes slide partially closed. He can see the leafy canopy above through his lashes and feel Bilbo’s soft curls against his cheek. Thorin wraps an arm around Bilbo’s shoulders to keep him there. There’s a few moments of peaceful quiet as Thorin basks in the come drying against his chest and the ache in his arse. 

“I don’t either, you know. Care if they heard, I mean.” Thorin rolls his head to the side and is met with Bilbo’s dark blue eyes and earnest gaze. 

He stretches forward and brushes his lips against Bilbo’s. “Good, for I would keep you like this. Long after we reclaim Erebor and rebuild my kingdom.” 

Bilbo swallows hard enough for Thorin to hear it. “Good, because I would stay.” 

Thorin tucks Bilbo tighter against him, propping his chin against the crown of Bilbo’s head in what he can tell is going to be a favorite position. It’s only a few moments before Bilbo is giggling against him. 

“What?” It’s easy to indulge his hobbit after such a fantastic shag, and when he loves him so much. 

“I was just thinking, it’s a good thing Gandalf negotiated a few days stay for us with Beorn, because you are going to be in no condition to ride a pony over the next few days.” Thorin’s low chuckle joins Bilbo’s giggles. 

“Don’t underestimate me, Master Baggins. I would do just fine. Though if we stay here long, Bombur will have nothing left to cook with.”

“Oh, if Beorn will lend us some supplies, I can make us an ointment that works much better than cooking oil.” 

Thorin feels a stirring of interest in his gut, thinking of Bilbo fucking him again so soon. “Thank Mahal for hobbit craftiness then.” 

Bilbo sits up next to him, sweaty and sticky and looking debauched. “I’d thank you not to malign hobbit craftiness too easily. It has saved your arse more than once on this journey, and will do so again. In more ways than one.” 

Thorin laughs genuinely this time. Laughs until Bilbo has no choice but to crawl on top of him and kiss him back to his senses. 

“Thorin? Is this how… that is to say, do you only want to… like this?” 

Thorin could pretend to misunderstand, to be unsure of Bilbo’s meaning, just to tease and force Bilbo to say words that would have come easily to him in the height of passion. But he takes pity. 

“No. I think I will quite like having you ride my cock while I sit upon my reclaimed throne, covered in jewels and royal robes.” It’s an image that has stuck in Thorin’s mind for more of the journey than he’d care to admit. 

“Oh.” Bilbo’s eyes are glassy, his lips wet and parted. “Um yes. Yes that will do very nicely, I think.” 

“So you’d better make your wondrous hobbit ointment for mine won’t be the only arse in need of saving.” 

Bilbo grouses, threatens to go back to the river, makes to leave Thorin alone among the trees, but Thorin cajoles his to stay with kisses instead of words. It takes some time but neither minds the delay.


End file.
